


Starlight

by Orinoco_II



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Backstory, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22787914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orinoco_II/pseuds/Orinoco_II
Summary: Torchwood intercept a message from beyond the stars, but who is it intended for?  And has Gwen met the recipient before?
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 37
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

_Cardiff, 11 June 1919_

He ran. Sweat-soaked, head and limbs heavy with drink, muscles fatigued and aching from the fight, he ran. Each foot pounding into the pavement as the thunderous shouts of the crowd faded behind him. Shattering glass, roaring fires and the thick, choking smoke began to recede but still he ran. Behind him, the night sky glowed unnaturally with flames spitting and curling upwards.

Turning to his right, he came to a sudden stop, boots skidding in the dust. He stared upwards, eyes widening. “What in the..?”

It was a woman, or so he thought. But not of this world. Dressed all in white, she seemed almost luminescent, floating as she did some three foot above the ground. His scorched throat could not even whisper the words on his cracked lips; that here was some demon come upon him. She lunged towards him and his raw scream was silenced.

*

_Cardiff, October 2008_

As the progress bar inched painfully slowly across his screen, Ianto Jones let his mind wander. Tediously, it didn’t stray far. He mentally scrolled through various to-do lists and calculated how many of the jobs he would have time to accomplish before lunch. The programme finally crawled to completion and flashed up the message he had been dreading.

He turned at the sound of Jack’s footsteps behind him. “Any luck?” Jack asked.

“Nope.” Ianto sat back with a sigh. “Our translation programmes are stumped.”

Gwen called over from the other side of the Hub. “Maybe they need updating or something?”

“I’ll…look into it.” Ianto stumbled over the sentence, catching himself just in time. He had been about to suggest that he would ask Tosh to look into it.

“Thanks Ianto.” Jack clapped a reassuring hand on Ianto’s shoulder, as if he had known the reason for Ianto’s hesitation. “In the meantime, there’s been a call about an unusual shoplifting in the city centre.”

“Unusual how?” Gwen asked, her tone brightening at the suggestion of something that might release her from the tedium of desk work.

“The shoplifter was described as seven-foot-tall with fangs and scales,” Jack explained.

“Ah.” Ianto raised his eyebrows with a smile.

“The police made an arrest,” Jack went on. “We need to take the alien off their hands and do a clean-up job.” He pulled an apologetic face and made a vague gesture with his hands. “Not my area of expertise.”

Ianto could hardly disagree. Anytime Jack had to pay a visit to Cardiff’s Central Police Station, someone ended up pissed off, there was inevitably additional paperwork and Ianto or Gwen had to step in to smooth things over. Plus, making messes, not cleaning them up, was Jack’s speciality.

Gwen was already grabbing her jacket, clearly itching for something to get her out and about. “We’re on our way,” she told Jack, almost gleefully.

Ianto sighed again as he stood and donned his own coat, abandoning yet another to-do list, and following Gwen out of the Hub.

*

“He’s through here,” PC Andy Davison told Gwen and Ianto as he ushered them down the stairs to the cells.

Gwen trod the old cell block corridors with the same sense of uncomfortable familiarity she had every time she had to interact with pieces of her past. It wasn’t that she had bad memories of her time with the police, it was just that Gwen was someone who liked to move forwards. She had been a different person back then; innocent, naïve and, quite frankly, obnoxious. It wasn’t a persona she was keen to revisit.

Andy stopped outside a cell and Gwen and Ianto peered in through the viewport in the door. The occupant was as Jack had described. So tall that its head reached the window set high up in the cell wall and reptilian in appearance – covered in iridescent blue scales with a formidable ridge of spikes from the crest of its head to the tip of its long, thick tail.

Turning, it spotted them watching it and, with an ear-splitting screech, rushed at the door. Jaws open, Gwen could see its forked tongue flickering and a jagged, potentially venomous, pair of fangs. The clang as it hit the solid metal reverberated through the cell block. Gwen shuddered at the sound of its razor-sharp talons scraping down the inside of the door.

“Here you go.” Ianto took a step back, removed the syringe he had prepared in the car from inside his jacket and handed it to her.

Gwen stared at it incredulously. “Why am I doing it?” she asked.

“It looks slobbery,” Ianto explained with a shrug. “I don’t want to ruin another suit.”

Gwen frowned. Typical. “Maybe you should think about wearing something more practical to work then?” she suggested.

“Suits are extremely practical,” Ianto replied defensively.

“Anyway.” Gwen put her hands on her hips defiantly. “Maybe I don’t want to ruin my outfit.”

Ianto raised one eyebrow as his eyes slowly roamed down Gwen’s body and back up to meet her irritated gaze. “Yeah. Ok.” He smirked.

“What?” Gwen could feel her outrage growing. The smug bastard. “What was that look for? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

A throat was cleared. “Would you like me to do it?” Andy interrupted.

Gwen sighed irritably and snatched the syringe out of Ianto’s hand. “No, it’s fine, _I’ll_ do it.”

*

Mission one accomplished, Gwen and Ianto were now at the shopping centre, attempting to reassure the manager of a boutique clothes shop that what he’d seen was a student prank gone wrong. Well, Ianto was. He could do that without ruining his suit. Gwen wandered absent-mindedly around the sparse displays, eyes widening at the price tags and wondering who would pay that much for clothes that looked like something her great aunt would wear. Although, who knew? Maybe flowery, silky and pastel were back in.

“Fancy dress, you say?” the manager repeated behind her. “It was very convincing. Mind you, you can’t half get some bloody good costumes off of the internet these days. My friend Sue’s husband dressed as that bloke with the fingers last Halloween and scared the shit out of us!”

“Freddy Kreuger?” Ianto suggested with the polite restraint in his voice which Gwen had come to recognise as code for _I think you’re a fucking moron_.

“Yeah, that’s it,” the manager agreed.

Gwen made eye contact with an employee who was sweeping up broken glass below a smashed mirror and gave what she hoped was a friendly smile. The girl, who was probably still in her teens, returned Gwen’s smile with a blank expression and carried on sweeping.

Suddenly, Gwen’s attention was caught by a figure standing outside the shop, staring in through the window. A woman. All in white.

Gwen froze, bile inexplicably burning up her throat; her heart pounding in her ears. Without a backward glance, she was heading for the door.

“Gwen?” Somewhere at the periphery of her senses she heard Ianto’s inquisitive tone but she ignored him.

She did not glance back as she bolted through the shopping centre, weaving her way through the milling crowds of mid-morning shoppers, barely even registering the surprise on their faces as she barrelled through them to the exit. She burst out into the street, hit by the sudden chill of the autumnal wind sweeping down the high street, and kept running. She did not know why she was still running. Nevertheless, she ran.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was tinkering with something in the workshop when Ianto returned to the Hub. Ianto was always suspicious when Jack was tinkering. It usually meant that he was either avoiding some particularly dull piece of admin or he had broken something and was trying to fix it before Ianto found out. Loitering for a while in the doorway, Ianto could see that it was some kind of alien tech that he didn’t recognise so Jack most likely had paperwork he was putting off.

Ianto took a step forward and Jack looked up. “All sorted?”

“All sorted,” Ianto confirmed. “We have a new guest for the cells. I’ll run some tests on it when it wakes up.”

“Excellent.” Jack carefully selected a tool from an array laid out on the workbench beside him and returned his focus to the gadget in front of him.

Ianto lingered for a moment, watching Jack work and mulling over the morning’s events, before deciding not to tell Jack about Gwen’s disappearing act. He should talk to her about it – give her a chance to explain - before blabbing to the boss. He left Jack to it and headed back upstairs just as Gwen was stepping through the cog door.

She looked startled when she saw him and then guilty as she shed her jacket and sat down at her desk.

Ianto wandered over, hands in pockets, hoping she would see his approach as curious and concerned rather than hostile. “What happened to you?” he asked gently.

“I was – following up a lead,” Gwen mumbled unconvincingly.

“Who was she?”

Gwen blinked at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“The woman you saw,” Ianto expanded, still keeping his voice soft. “The one who freaked you out.”

“I didn’t freak out,” Gwen retorted defensively.

Ianto regarded her for a moment. She looked back at him defiantly for a few seconds before randomly pushing some things around on her desk. Ianto chewed his lip thoughtfully and decided not to push any further. Gwen had some reason not to be honest with him and he knew from experience that forcing the issue would lead to her blowing up on him. Eventually, he shrugged. “Ok then.”

Gwen almost seem to deflate with relief that he was dropping it. “Shall I give you a hand getting that thing out of the SUV?” she offered.

“Sure.” Ianto swiped the keys up off his desk and they headed down to the car park together.

*

Luckily, the street that Jack and Ianto were currently stalking a weevil down was devoid of life. It was only just gone nine pm but most of the factories and workshops that lined the narrow street were either shut up for the day or long since closed down. The wind that came permanently rolling in off the bay scattered a few leaves and the odd plastic bag until they snagged in the gutters or amongst the weeds growing from the cracks in brickwork or out of the chain link fences. The orange glow of the streetlights illuminated the shambling gait of the weevil up ahead of them. With a swing of its cadaverous head, it lurched to the right and ducked into a side alley.

“You go round,” Ianto instructed Jack, gesturing. “The next right loops round to meet this one. We’ll cut it off.”

Jack gave a nod and quickened his pace as Ianto headed into the alleyway. It was deep in shadow, out of reach of the streetlights. Piles of old tyres and other rusting car parts created odd silhouettes in the darkness. Ianto paused, tilted his head to one side and listened. He couldn’t hear footsteps but he could hear the rasping breath of a weevil. It had stopped running.

Ianto stepped cautiously forward, one hand on his gun and the other on the weevil spray. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty…”

Suddenly, there was a snarl and fangs materialised out of the blackness. Ianto found himself knocked backwards and felt something slash at his neck as his head hit the ground. The snarl morphed into a howl of pain and abruptly the weight and stench of the weevil was gone.

Ianto raised himself on his elbows, dazed. The weevil lay motionless on the ground beside him. The alleyway was now bathed in a soft, white light. Squinting upwards, he saw her again. The woman who had been standing outside the shop. She seemed now to be floating and was the source of the light.

“Who are you?” Ianto asked.

She said nothing but turned away from him. As she moved back towards the street, the light around her dimmed and she stepped back onto the ground. Ianto sprung to his feet. “Hey! Wait!”

But she was gone.

Footsteps approached from the opposite direction and Ianto tensed until Jack sprinted into view.

Pulling up in front of Ianto, Jack leant forward on his knees to get his breath back. “Sorry – I got a little disorientated with my lefts and rights.” He spotted the weevil lying dead on the ground. “What happened?”

“There was this woman,” Ianto explained, confused. “I think she killed it.”

“Where’d she go?” Jack straightened up and took a scan around the confined alleyway.

“She walked off.” Ianto pointed over his shoulder. “I saw her the other day, too. When I was out with Gwen.”

“What did she look like?”

“Like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Jack asked sceptically.

“Well, you know – pale, all in white, glowing,” Ianto admitted sheepishly.

“Well,” Jack mused, looking down at the corpse of the weevil. “Looks like your ghost did you a favour.”

“Yeah,” Ianto agreed.

Jack suddenly frowned, reached out and gently tilted Ianto’s chin to one side, forehead furrowed with concern as he examined Ianto’s neck in the darkness. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah.” Ianto reached up to touch his neck and winced when his fingertips brushed over the gash the weevil had given him. He examined the blood on his fingers. “Weevil caught me on its way down.”

“Ok.” Jack let go of Ianto’s chin. “Let’s get this guy back to the SUV and then get you patched up.”

The suggestive tone in which Jack proposed _patching him up_ had Ianto rolling his eyes. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time Jack’s first aid sessions had turned into something altogether more pleasurable and it wouldn’t be an entirely unusual way for them to end an evening of weevil hunting. Picking up the weevil between them, they started to lug it back to the SUV.

*

It was mid-morning on a weekday so it seemed that the resident of Primrose Close were either at work, at school or otherwise engaged. It was probably a good thing. Jack and Gwen didn’t need the local neighbourhood watch poking its nose into the reasons why they were prowling up and down the street, peering into wheelie bins and searching front gardens. They had narrowed the rift signal down to three adjacent streets but had had no luck so far in locating its source.

Gwen cursed as she cut her hand on the pampas grass she was searching through and stuck her fingers in her mouth to suck on the stinging scratch. She backed out of the garden and glanced around, startled to see someone standing at the end of the road watching her. A reassuring excuse died on her lips as she saw who it was.

“I can see you,” Gwen called out.

The woman did not reply.

“What are you doing here?” Gwen shouted. “What do you want from me?”

Without a word, the woman turned and disappeared.

“We were only fifteen,” Gwen murmured quietly to herself.

“Who was that?”

Gwen jumped a little more violently than would be expected when Jack appeared behind her.

“I don’t know.” Gwen tried to affect nonchalance, moving on to check the next set of wheelie bins.

“Is that the woman you saw the other day?” Jack asked, following her.

Gwen froze and then scowled, letting the bin lid slam shut. “Ianto told you?” she snapped.

“He said you saw a woman in white,” Jack told her, his expression carefully neutral. “He saw her again last night when we were weevil hunting.” He regarded Gwen curiously. “Why – should he not have told me?”

Gwen shook her head, looking away from him. She crouched to look under a parked car. “No, no, it’s…”

“Have you seen her before?” Jack was standing too close; he was suffocating sometimes.

“No.” Gwen stood and walked quickly on to the next house. “You should keep looking on that side.”

“Right,” Jack agreed dubiously and re-crossed the street to resume his search of the bins and gardens on the opposite side of the close.

Gwen lingered a moment over the next front garden, wondering why she was finding it so hard to breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

Tingly or flavoured, that was the question. Or both? Problem was, there wasn’t exactly much to choose from in any case. Ianto stood and contemplated Waitrose’s lube selection with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Ianto Jones?!” a voice interrupted his musings.

Ianto jumped so violently that he dropped the lube on the floor. He hastily picked it up, cheeks burning red as he turned to face the man behind him. His hairline had receded even further than Ianto’s own and his face was covered in something halfway between stubble and beard but otherwise he hadn’t changed much since the last time Ianto had seen him; one of those standard nights down the pub, the summer before Ianto left for London.

“Lucas?” Ianto greeted him with surprise.

“Bloody hell – it’s been ages,” Lucas observed, six-pack of lager dangling from his meaty right hand.

“Yeah,” Ianto agreed. To call Lucas Conway a school friend might be an overstatement; school _acquaintance_ would be more appropriate. Ianto had had a lot of school acquaintances. People he tolerated because there was safety in numbers.

“I didn’t even know you were back in Cardiff,” Lucas went on. “Last I heard, you had some posh job up in London.”

“I did, but I came back,” Ianto explained.

“Well…” Lucas began. His eyes strayed downward and into Ianto’s trolley; to the bottle of wine, the ingredients for Ianto’s one and only culinary capability – spag bol – and the box of condoms. Ianto followed his gaze and turned even redder. Clearing his throat, Lucas looked up at Ianto again. “How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Good. Yeah.” Ianto nodded vigorously. “You?”

“Can’t complain,” Lucas said with a shrug. “Look – if you’re not busy, me and some of the lads are getting together for a poker game tomorrow night. You could come. I’m sure the others’d love to see you.”

“Yeah, great, sounds good,” Ianto’s mouth said before his brain could supply an excuse.

“Brill.” Lucas grinned. “What’s your number?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Ianto was giving Lucas his number. His actual number. What was the matter with him? He worked for a top secret organisation for Christ’s sake. He should be better at cover stories than this.

“Great – I’ll drop you a text with my address,” Lucas told him, giving Ianto a friendly slap on the shoulder and casting one last glance into Ianto’s trolley.

“Great,” Ianto parroted. He watched Lucas stroll casually off round the corner with his lager before dropping the lube into the trolley and his head into his hands.

*

The echoes of gunshot in the firing range pinged off the tiled walls of the underground corridor as Gwen made her way down to the firing range. She slipped in through the door and found Jack firing off rounds at the targets. He’d abandoned his Webley in favour of a standard-issue Torchwood M1911. As he stood there, arms braced, ear defenders and safety goggles on, Gwen flashed back to that first time Jack had brought her down here. How smitten she’d been. How foolish. She perched on the weapons table, feet swinging, and waited for him to finish.

When Jack turned to reload, he spotted her and slipped his ear defenders down around his neck. “Gwen,” he greeted her. “What can I do for you?”

Gwen looked down at her dangling feet. “I wanted to apologise,” she admitted. “For freaking out earlier.”

Jack pushed the goggles up onto his head and gave a shrug. “I didn’t notice,” he lied.

“The woman,” Gwen said. “I have seen her before.”

Jack put down his gun and folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah? Where?”

Gwen sighed, looking past his shoulder at the weevil-shaped target at the other end of the range, peppered with bullet holes. “A long time ago.”

“You think it’s a Torchwood thing?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know.” Gwen finally met his eyes. “Can I look into it?”

“Sure,” Jack nodded.

“Thanks.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and then gestured to the weapons table. “You want to shoot?”

Gwen shook her head and dropped down to the floor. “No. I’m fine, thanks.”

The percussive rhythm of Jack’s gunfire started up again as she left. Her feet took her slowly back upstairs, weighed down by a heaviness she couldn’t name. Gwen was not someone to dwell on sadness. She grieved and she cried but she never wallowed. Yet now, if anyone had asked, she would only be able to say that she felt an unbearable sadness, fluttering and swirling in the space between her lungs.

She sank down behind her desk in the main Hub and began a search of the Torchwood databases. After a few false starts involving featureless alien figures, runaway brides and spectres in nighties, she found a string of news articles that looked familiar.

Gwen leant forward and peered closely at the screen. There was a smattering of reports scattered throughout the twentieth century. Sightings of a mysterious woman in white. Sometimes she was described as an angel. Sometimes as a devil. But always turning up when there was trouble.

Gwen wondered. Slowly pecking at the keyboard, she typed in the one word that might link the sightings. She hovered over the return key. Did she want to know? She moved her hand and slammed it down on the backspace, erasing the word from the search box and leaving the cursor blinking accusatorily in its place.

*

“The signal’s a few metres ahead of you.” Ianto’s voice spoke in her earpiece so loudly that Gwen wondered if everyone in the silent library could hear it. She gave a polite smile to the few members of the public browsing the bookshelves of Cardiff Central library but none of them seemed interested in making eye contact.

She looked down at the scanner in her hand. The Rift alert had come in thirty minutes ago and Gwen had immediately seized on the opportunity of a distraction. She came out of the end of the aisle and started to move past the desks along the end wall. There were a few people working at them but they didn’t look up as she passed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen spotted something scuttling out from under one shelf and disappearing under an adjacent one. Stealthily, Gwen followed. She caught the sudden movement again as whatever it was darted between another set of shelves. Getting down on her knees, Gwen rested her temple against the coarse carpet and peered under the shelving unit.

She was confronted by a pair of glowing orange eyes staring back at her from under the shelf. Both Gwen and the alien shot back up in surprise.

The creature let out a loud squeal and sped off in a scrabble of claws. Abandoning hope of a subtle capture, Gwen gave chase, ignoring the tuts and glares of the afternoon library users. Despite looking like a cross between a beaver and a wombat, the alien was in possession of a surprising turn of speed. Its wiggling behind disappeared under a set of turnstiles which Gwen vaulted over to continue her pursuit.

Without warning, the creature suddenly rolled itself into a ball and tumbled back in Gwen’s direction. Not pausing for thought, Gwen squatted with open arms and let the alien bundle itself into her chest.

“Got it,” she announced breathlessly, hugging the squirming alien close to her chest with one arm as she reached to touch her earpiece.

“Good work,” came Ianto’s reply.

Gwen looked to see what had spooked the creature and saw her. She was standing at the end of a shelving stack, a benevolent smile on her face. Before Gwen could speak, she turned and disappeared amongst the books.

“Gwen?” She could distantly hear Ianto’s muffled voice in her ear. “You still there?”

Gwen’s hand found its way to her cheek. With shaking fingers, she wiped the tears away.


	4. Chapter 4

Ianto sensed Jack approaching from behind before he announced himself. His footsteps were light but he brought with him his familiar indefinable scent and an enveloping warmth. Ianto felt his lips twitching upwards into a smile at Jack’s mere presence but kept his eyes studiously on the computer screen in front of him.

A pair of warm hands landed softly on his shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “Any luck with that translation?”

“Nope,” Ianto replied, lacing his fingers together and pushing his arms out in front of him in a stretch. He arched his neck back to look at Jack. “I’m going to need an SOS call tonight.”

Jack’s thumb rubbed at his neck. “A what?” he enquired, baffled.

“For this poker game,” Ianto explained, dropping his head back forward again. “Nine thirty I need you to call me so I can leave.”

Jack shook his head. “That makes no sense.”

“Just do it,” Ianto told him.

“Fine,” Jack agreed.

Ianto relaxed a little further as Jack’s fingers worked away slowly at his shoulders. “I have no idea what to wear,” he admitted.

Jack’s hands slid down Ianto’s arms and wrapped around his waist. “You know what I would always recommend you wear.” He nuzzled against Ianto’s neck.

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Naked is really not an option Jack.”

…

“You know what I would always recommend you wear,” Gwen heard Jack say as she entered from the lower levels of the Hub.

“Naked is really not an option Jack.”

Gwen hung back, watching and listening, eyes still red from the tears she had shed in the library. She knew she needed to tell Jack and Ianto what was going on but somehow her feet seemed frozen in place.

“I was going to say your suit but I like where you mind went,” Jack laughed, arms round Ianto, the two of them happy and oblivious. They wouldn’t welcome her miserable interruption.

“You always like where my mind goes,” Ianto replied, standing up and pulling out of Jack’s embrace. He walked off in the opposite direction without even a glance in her direction.

“Because it’s so dirty,” Jack agreed, following Ianto, their teasing voices fading away.

Now was not the time. Gwen turned and left without a sound.

*

Ianto could practically smell the testosterone around the small table in Lucas’ cramped kitchen. It smelt a little like Lynx deodorant and cheap lager. Lucas sat opposite shuffling the cards in an elaborate display designed to impress. To Ianto’s right was Dan Lewis, still as small and scrappy as he’d been at school but with a few extra tattoos. On his left was Rhodri Hayes, whose weight had ballooned his face beyond recognition, and next to Lucas was Gavin Reed, who still looked as baby-faced as he had at eighteen.

“So – we need to catch you up on all the news Ianto my boy,” Lucas asserted as he began to deal out the cards.

“Yes,” Ianto agreed, smoothing nervous hands down his front. In the end, he’d plumped for a jeans-and-shirt combo that he hoped was suitably neutral. “You do.”

With a stylish flick of his wrist, Lucas dealt the last of the cards out and they all reached for their hands. “I married Tasha by the way,” he said.

“Oh. Good. Congratulations.” Ianto tried not to frown as he looked at his cards. He had played the occasional game of poker with his mates in London but he was by no means an expert. He’d brushed up on the rules earlier and was hoping he wouldn’t make a fool of himself.

“We got divorced last year,” Lucas added.

“Oh.” Ianto glanced up at him. He didn’t seem particularly distressed by it. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Probably not though, are you?” Rhodri interjected with a snort. “You always wanted to bone her. Got her number Lucas? You can let Ianto have a crack now.”

“Piss off Rhod.” Lucas flipped him the finger.

Rhodri laughed again and plunged a fleshy fist into the bowl of crisps that Lucas had dumped on the table by way of refreshments. “Still, at least they weren’t dumb enough to have kids like Danny boy,” he goaded through a mouthful.

“You’re just jealous Rhod,” Dan asserted with a tight smile, eyes glued to his cards as he rearranged them.

Rhodri shook his head vehemently. “Of the screaming brats? No way.” Ianto looked up at the wrong time and caught sight of Rhodri’s open-mouthed mastication.

He turned away hastily. “You’ve got kids?” he asked Dan.

Dan glanced up from his cards. “Yeah. Two,” he confirmed.

“Congratulations,” Ianto found himself saying again.

“Thanks mate.” It had always been hard to gauge Dan's sincerity but Ianto decided to take his thanks as genuine.

“Don’t encourage him – he’ll be yacking about them all night,” Rhodri mocked, mouth finally empty. Ianto couldn’t really imagine Dan yacking for thirty seconds, let alone a whole evening. Dan simply raised an eyebrow and took a swig of his lager.

“You ever see anyone from school Ianto?” Gavin asked after they had all put down their chips.

“Uh, not really,” Ianto said. “Sort of lost touch after I moved to London.”

“Lost the accent, too, didn’t you?” Rhodri observed.

“A bit,” Ianto agreed.

“Ooh – you’ll like this bit of gossip,” Lucas announced suddenly. “Remember Bobby? He’s gone bender, proper flaming. Gav saw him in town with his boyfriend, didn’t you? Mincing along like he’d been taking it up the arse.”

Ianto froze, one hand on his can of lager. He could feel a sudden chill creeping up his spine. His mind was torn in three directions – a desire to leave immediately, an urge to tell them where to shove it and terror that they would find out. He felt sixteen again; back in the changing rooms after PE. If he was Jack, he would smirk at them and calmly inform them that taking it up the arse was the most mind-blowingly pleasurable activity they could ever hope to partake in, especially if they happened to have a super-hot, well-endowed boyfriend, then sit back and watch their jaws drop. But Ianto was not Jack. Jack’s world was so far removed from the world Ianto had grown up in.

Lucas moved on, not seeming to notice Ianto’s discomfort. “Anyway, what happened with you and Cassie?”

Ianto cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly desiccated. “She went to University, I moved to London,” he said. “We sort of – drifted apart.” He was lying, of course. She’d met someone else in her first term and he never got to use the pack of condoms he’d been saving for her visit.

“So why’d you come back?” Gavin asked.

“My mam,” Ianto lied again. “She was ill.”

“Oh right, sorry man.”

“What are you doing?” Lucas asked. “Must be a posh job with those suits.”

“Not really,” Ianto told them, wondering if they could hear the waver in his voice as clearly as he could hear it in his head. “Just civil service. Pen pushing. You know.”

“Seeing anyone?” Rhodri asked.

“What – like you are Rhoddy?” Gavin put in.

“Shut it,” Rhodri warned him.

“What?” Ianto enquired, anxious to turn the conversation away from himself.

“Tell Ianto about your angel Rhod,” Gavin pushed.

Rhodri wagged a chubby finger at him. “You laugh, but she’s real,” he claimed.

“An angel?” Ianto asked.

“Yeah,” Rhodri said. “I was out one night in town, about to get my arse kicked in a fight ‘cause I come on to some guy’s girlfriend, when this woman appears. All in white. You’re telling me that’s not an angel?”

Ianto’s mind whirred, connections firing, work mode taking over. “Well, I…suppose it could be,” he agreed.

“Now he’s up the church every Sunday,” Gavin added. “No Saturday night sessions for him anymore.”

“Wow. Didn’t see that one coming.”

Rhodri patted him on the shoulder and Ianto tried not to flinch. “The Lord finds us in the strangest places mate,” he intoned.

“Aw, shut up about that Rhod,” Lucas interrupted. “You never answered Ianto – you seeing anyone?”

Ianto shook his head firmly. “Nope.”

“Really?” Lucas queried with a raised eyebrow. “So all that lube you were buying was just for you then?” He mimed wanking and laughed.

The cold sweat reappeared in the small of Ianto’s back. “No. Uh, I’m sort of seeing someone,” he admitted. “Nothing serious.” He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled an apologetic face at his companions and answered it. “Hello?”

“This is your SOS call,” Jack announced in his ear. Ianto felt his face heat up, desperately hoping the others couldn’t hear the other end of his phone call.

“Oh no!” he announced in mock horror. “Really? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and immediately jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry. That was my sister. My brother-in-law’s been in an accident. I’ve got to go.” He threw some money down on the table. “Good to see you again guys.” He pulled on his jacket and walked out of the flat to a chorus of goodbyes and well-wishes. His breathing was still shaky when he’d left the building and was back in the dark of the night.

*

Gwen closed the flat door quietly behind her. She stood in the hallway, keys still in her hand, and listened. No TV, no radio. After a moment, she stepped into the living room, dumped her keys on the table and spotted Rhys in the kitchen. His face was crumpled into a frown as he hunched over his laptop.

He looked up at the sound of her keys and the lines in his forehead relaxed a little. “Hiya,” he called.

Gwen stepped into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Working on that presentation,” Rhys explained. “You know, the one I was telling you about?” Gwen knew she must be looking at him blankly. “For the big bosses,” Rhys reminded her. “The ones who want to shut down our office.”

She didn’t remember but she nodded anyway. “Oh, right, yeah.”

“I’m not much good with this PowerPoint thing though.” He gave a frustrated gesture towards his laptop. “Can’t get anything to go where I want it to.”

Gwen leant back against the surface and idly picked up a tea towel that Rhys had left in a heap. “I’m the wrong person to ask about this,” she said.

“Yeah.” Rhys’ attention was back on the computer. “Still, don’t suppose you could take a look for me, could you? See what you think? Check I’ve got all my apostrophes in the right place?”

“Yeah.” Gwen twisted the tea towel in her hands, staring at the striped pattern until it started to blur.

“I mean, I know it’s not exactly the job I dreamed about when I was a kid,” Rhys admitted.

“Yeah.”

“I suppose I could always find something else if they do lay me off. We could manage on your salary for a while.” He chuckled. “Or maybe I could be a house husband?”

“You’ve never asked me why I wanted to join the police,” Gwen said suddenly, pulling the tea towel taut between her hands.

“What?” Rhys asked, brow now furrowed with confusion.

“You never asked me why I joined the police,” she repeated.

Rhys shrugged. “I just assumed it was because you wanted to help people.”

“You assumed?”

“Yes.” Rhys blinked at her, baffled. “Sorry – is this important?”

“I would think so.”

“It’s just I really do need to get this finished,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine Rhys,” Gwen snapped.

She flung the tea towel down and stormed out of the room. Rhys stared after her, shaking his head to dispel the annoyance. He really didn’t have time to work her mood out right now. Hearing the bedroom door slam, he went back to his presentation. When he clicked the mouse, the picture he had just inserted shot off the side of the screen.

“Bollocks,” he swore.


	5. Chapter 5

“He said he’d seen an angel,” Ianto told Jack as he leant over the toaster in the Hub, feeling the warmth of it bathing his cheeks and nose. “A woman all in white.”

“Like the one we’ve been seeing?” Jack asked, lounging against the surface beside him.

“Could be.”

With a click and a spring, the toaster popped up but the muffins stayed obstinately inside. Ianto peered closer. This was why he didn’t like toasting muffins. Frowning, he poked a knife into the toaster and attempted to prise them out.

“Well, you could dig a little deeper,” Jack said. “Find out more from him.”

“No way,” Ianto insisted, still wiggling the knife around. “There is no way I am seeing any of those guys again.” Giving up, he cast the knife aside and resorted to turning the toaster upside down. Two muffins dropped out onto the surface alongside a cascade of crumbs. “Damn.”

Jack seemed oblivious to Ianto’s predicament, in more ways than one. “Maybe I should go and see them?” he suggested.

Ianto stared at Jack in horror. “That would be an extremely bad idea,” he stated firmly, dread prickling all over his scalp at the thought of Jack colliding with his former life. He dumped the muffins on two plates and handed one to Jack.

“Thanks.” Half a muffin had disappeared into Jack’s mouth before the plate had barely left Ianto’s hand.

Ianto shook his head, glad that Jack was diverted. “No finesse.” He took a block of butter from the fridge, unwrapped it and pointedly handed Jack the knife he had discarded.

“What?” Jack sprayed, taking the knife and crudely hacking out a wedge of butter. “I was hungry!”

*

Later, they lay together on the tiny bed in the bunker under Jack’s office; an awkward jigsaw of limbs since the bed was too small, really, for two fully grown men to lie side by side. Ianto lay on his back, his hands folded behind his head, staring up through the hole above him at the shifting blue lights of the Hub. His mind was stuck in a loop tonight, playing back the poker game over and over; repeating Lucas’ words again and again, and imagining the script that should have played out.

“Ianto?” Jack’s voice surprised him. Ianto had presumed from his even, lengthy breathing that Jack was asleep. He didn’t reply. “You’re not asleep,” Jack observed.

“No,” Ianto agreed. “I’m pretending to be asleep.”

“You’re not doing a very good job,” Jack responded teasingly. “You never sleep on your back.”

Ianto gave a small sigh but said nothing. Rolling over, Jack propped himself up on one elbow. “What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.

Ianto kept his eyes studiously trained on the ceiling above and not on Jack’s eyes, shining in the half-light as he looked down at him curiously. How could Ianto explain what was churning around in his head? Jack ‘I hate labels’ Harkness would never understand.

“I thought one of the benefits of sleeping with a man would be not having to answer that question,” Ianto replied eventually, wincing at the bitterness in his own voice.

Jack sighed heavily, rolled back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Ianto turned his head to watch as Jack began picking up his clothes from the floor.

“Where are you going?” Ianto asked.

“For a walk,” Jack told him bluntly, as he stood and pulled on his trousers. “I’m not tired.” He grabbed his shirt, hopped over Ianto onto the ladder and climbed up into his office.

Ianto let his head thump back against the pillow in frustration.

*

There had been a time when Jack had been a frequent visitor to bars like these. There were more of them now but they were still the same. Remixed pop music with a pounding bassline, kitsch lighting, a smell of sweat and sugary drinks and a packed-out dancefloor full of writhing, willing bodies.

Jack sat up at the bar staring into the untouched drink in front of him. Quite why his feet had brought him here, he wasn’t sure. Frustration, perhaps. A need to sabotage things when they got too difficult. He was beginning to think he should have opted for a rooftop.

Someone slid in beside him. “Hi.”

Jack looked up at the man; young, with perfectly styled dark hair that curled over his forehead and deep, brown eyes. “Hi,” he replied.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the man asked.

Jack pointed to the sickly-looking cocktail on the bar. “I already have one.”

“I know,” the man shrugged with a grin. “It’s a line. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

The man leant up against the bar, t-shirt tight around the muscles beneath. Over his shoulder, something else caught Jack’s eye. A woman, all in white, standing in the middle of the dancefloor. The dancers moved around her, avoiding her without seeming to acknowledge her presence. She stared across at Jack with a serene expression on her face. Somehow, he knew why she was there.

Jack stood up suddenly. “I should go,” he said.

“Oh right.” The man raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “It’s like that, is it?”

“No, it’s…” Jack hesitated and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have come,” he explained. “I have a boyfriend. I’m sorry.”

Slinging his coat over his arm, Jack headed for the door. He paused and looked over at the dancefloor. The woman was gone. He left the club and set off into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

As Ianto stood in front of the tarnished mirror adjusting his tie, he heard Jack moving around in his office above him. The movements did not seem unduly angry but he wondered whether it was possible to accurately diagnose a mood through muffled footsteps. Taking a deep breath, he smoothed his hands down the front of his suit and climbed up the ladder.

He emerged from the manhole to find Jack searching through a pile of junk that had accumulated on the edge of his desk. Jack paused, hands full of paperwork and assorted stationery, and stared at Ianto. Was that irritation or guilt on Jack’s face Ianto wondered?

“Morning,” Ianto ventured, voice still full of sleep.

“Morning,” Jack mumbled, blinking himself back into action and returning his attention to his desk.

Ianto hovered for a moment before ducking his head and scurrying out of the door. Breakfast, he decided. Breakfast would help to break the ice. Jack, though he would be loath to admit it, was most definitely a man whose heart could be reached through his stomach.

Ianto took a quick trip to his favourite bakery, picking up something for Gwen as well, since he reasoned that she would be probably be in by the time he returned. Arriving back at the Hub with a bag of pastries, he found it deserted.

Placing the bag down carefully on the coffee table, aware that the grease was starting to turn the bag translucent, Ianto hesitantly touched his earpiece.

“Uh, Jack – not to sound paranoid but…where are you?”

Jack’s reply came back immediately, car engine growling in the background. “Gwen’s in Swansea – I’m going to get her.”

“Swansea?!” Ianto echoed. He’d only gone out to get breakfast and it seemed everyone had done a runner.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed.

“Right.”

“It’s only Swansea,” Jack reassured him. “Call me if anything happens – I can be back in less than an hour.”

“Ok.” Ianto ought to argue that the journey from Swansea to Cardiff should take longer than an hour but he didn’t bother. Jack saw estimated journey times as a target to beat by as many minutes as possible.

“Keep working on that translation,” Jack told him and cut the connection.

Ianto let out a deep sigh and resignedly headed for the coffee machine. A few minutes later, he sat down at his desk with a coffee at his right hand, napkin tucked in as he nibbled on a pastry, plate under his chin to catch the flakes. He leant forward and nudged the computer into life with his elbow and was startled by a noise to his right.

The woman in white was standing in the Hub.

Plate abandoned, Ianto scrambled to his feet, gun out and trained on her in a matter of seconds. “How did you get in here?” he demanded.

“Put your weapon away Ianto,” she told him. Her voice was not as he had imagined it. It was soft and low, almost mesmeric.

Ianto adjusted his grip and shifted his stance nervously. “Not until you tell me how you got in here,” he countered.

“I’m on your side Ianto.”

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

She smiled and turned away, disappearing behind the water tower. Ianto sprang into action and chased after her but by the time he had rounded the tower, she had gone.

*

The cemetery sloped gently up the side of a hill on the edge of the city. Grass walkways had been neatly mown between the plots but around some of the older graves long grass grew that waved in the strong wind blowing in off the sea. Down below, waves crashed onto the empty beach and seagulls screeched above, buffeted by the gusts. Somewhere amongst the streets to the east, a siren wailed.

Jack pushed open the metal gate - paint flaking and hinge squeaking - and entered. He wound his way along the grassy paths until he spotted Gwen, sitting cross-legged in front of a headstone. He stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back, unsure how to begin.

Eventually, Gwen spoke. “You found me then.”

“I traced your phone,” Jack told her. “Rhys was kinda worried.”

Gwen sighed. “Yeah.”

Jack squatted on his haunches beside her and read the name ‘Chloe Davis’ engraved across the top of the gravestone. Born 8th October 1977. Died 17th June 1993.

“Who was she?” he asked.

Gwen pushed her hair out of her eyes, only for the wind to blow it straight back over her face. “A mate.”

“She died young,” Jack noted.

“We were only fifteen,” Gwen murmured, glancing away and out to sea. “I was off with Gary. I had no idea.”

“About what?”

Gwen took a deep breath. Jack wasn’t sure if it was the bitter sting of the wind that was responsible for the moisture shining in the corners of Gwen’s eyes. “She was screaming for help but no one did anything,” Gwen recalled after a moment. “‘Such a bloody drama queen’, that’s what they said. I was off with Gary. When they realised, they all ran off. Too drunk and scared to do anything.”

“What happened?”

“The woman,” Gwen stated flatly. “The woman in white came. I saw her. She brought Chloe back to life.”

“So…how did she…?” Jack gestured to the headstone.

“She never recovered,” Gwen explained. “Killed herself six months later.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gwen shivered and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her. “That’s why I joined the police,” she said, looking up at Jack. There was no doubt about the tears now. “Guilt.”

Jack reached out a hand and laid it gently on Gwen’s shoulder. Her forehead dropped onto her knees. Jack’s thighs were beginning to burn but he stayed crouched beside her, hand outstretched, eyes tracing the engraving on her friend’s headstone as the cold Atlantic wind whipped around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I suddenly seem to have some more time on my hands so there may be more regular updates!


	7. Chapter 7

She was scattered throughout the twentieth century, Ianto found. Popping up at bar fights and house fires, scenes of domestic violence and potentially fatal accidents. A child who’d fallen into the canal in 1933; a train derailment in 1956; a tree that had fallen a car during the storms of ’87. Guys about to get their arses kicked in fights because they came onto someone else's girlfriend. Not enough that you’d notice the pattern if you weren’t looking. But there she was, reported by eye witnesses. A woman in white who appeared from nowhere and saved us.

*

_Cardiff, 11 June 1919_

If someone had asked him in years to come to pinpoint the moment that started all this, Joel wouldn’t have been able to tell them. Some might argue that it had building for months, since the end of the war; since the demobbed soldiers returned to unemployment and poverty. Some might suggest that it had all begun years ago, as the faces of Tiger Bay grew less white week-by-week. Others might claim that it had started that morning when a group of young couples decided to go for a picnic in the park. Still more might declare that it had truly come to a head at quarter past three today, when one ex-soldier decided to throw a brick through a window and his angry, dissatisfied and disillusioned neighbours had followed suit.

Whenever and however it had started, Joel was now running for his life. As the mob gathered outside his boarding house, he’d jumped from a second story window into the back yard. His ankle had buckled as he landed but he pushed through the pain, hauling himself up and over the brick wall into the alleyway. The flames were already licking out through the smashed windows and he saw furniture flung out into the street alongside the broken glass.

The shout went up when the mob spotted him. Sweat streamed down his face as he hurtled down the side street. Checking over his shoulder, he saw that the main crowd had let him go, already moving onto the next house. But one man, dogged and wild-eyed with drink, was still on his tail.

Joel ran blindly, forgetting the streets he knew so well in his panic. He turned a sharp right and came up short against the boarded doors of a warehouse. Unable to check his speed in time, he barrelled bodily into the doors, knocking the breath out of him. He twisted, sliding to the ground, knowing that it was over.

The soldier skidded to a stop at the entrance to the alleyway. That was when Joel saw her. A woman all in white, almost luminescent as she floated above the ground. Where had she come from? She advanced on the soldier and Joel winced and turned away as the man’s screams pierced his ears.

*

Ianto remembered his way up onto the roof of the Millennium Centre from the one occasion Jack had taken him up there. It had been way back when Ianto first joined Torchwood and he had subsequently realised that Jack had been trying to seduce him. Ianto knew Jack had taken Gwen up there too, when he’d first recruited her. The man had some extreme and questionable seduction techniques and Ianto had told him so, a few months further down the line, when Jack had suggested a second trip.

Ianto pushed open the fire door and stepped out onto the sloping roof. Up close, the metal was duller than it seemed from a distance and yielded unnervingly under Ianto’s feet as he gingerly crossed to the other side, the wind swirling around him. Ianto would never have said he was scared of heights but he certainly wasn’t as comfortable with them as Jack, for obvious reasons.

He stepped over to the edge of the building, nerves fluttering and his knees shaking, just a little. He hoped he was right about this.

Closing his eyes, he felt the wind biting at his face. The sounds of the city seemed so far away below him. Ianto had never imagined taking his life by jumping. There had been a time when he’d considered other options: pills or a gun – something quick and painless. No time to change his mind or regret his decision.

“If you jump, I’ll catch you,” a woman’s voice broke his reverie.

Ianto smiled and opened his eyes. “Thank you.”

The woman stood on the roof beside him, the breeze lifting her white robes so that they flowed out behind her. “The question is – why do you want to jump?” she asked.

“I don’t,” Ianto admitted, taking a grateful step backwards. “I just didn’t know how else to find you.”

The woman tilted her head to one side and regarded Ianto with slow, lazy blinks. Without another word, she turned and began to walk away.

“No wait,” Ianto called after her. “We can help you.”

The woman stopped and turned. “You can?”

“Yes,” Ianto assured her. “After all, it’s the least this city can do for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to info-dump too much history in the story but I would highly recommend looking up the Cardiff Race Riots of 1919 for more background.


	8. Chapter 8

Gwen was surprised to find Jack only just parking the SUV when she got back to the Hub. Since she had more or less stuck to the speed limit, she had been expecting to find him already ensconced in his office, feet up and cup of coffee in his hand. Seeing her pull into the car park, Jack waited for her before they made for the door to the Hub. He didn’t speak for which Gwen was grateful. She had been braced for a barrage of inappropriate Harkness anecdotes but for once Jack seemed to sense that she needed silence.

They entered the Hub from below and Gwen could hear the clacking of Ianto’s keyboard before she rounded the corner into the workstation area. Jack was a few paces ahead of her and she nearly walked straight into his back when he stopped abruptly, halfway through removing his coat.

Gwen stepped to one side to see what had made him stop. Her pounding heart tried to squeeze its way up her throat and her jaw worked silently around the words that it was blocking. Ianto was sitting at his desk. _She_ was standing beside him.

Hearing their approach, Ianto spun round to face them. He must have noted the shock on her face as his eyes quickly flicked from Jack, to Gwen and back to the woman. For a long, uncomfortable moment, no one spoke.

Eventually, Ianto cleared his throat. “This is Kyana,” he introduced her.

Jack was the first to reanimate, pulling his coat the rest of the way off and flinging it onto the sofa. “What’s she doing here?” he demanded, hands on hips.

“She’s helping us,” Ianto explained calmly. He gestured to his computer. “She’s translated the message.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed and he regarded them both suspiciously. Gwen still found herself unable to do anything but stand and listen to her own deafening pulse, eyes fixed on the woman in white. “What does it say?” Jack asked.

“It’s a message from my people,” Kyana explained, though her steady gaze was on Gwen and not Jack. “They have finally returned to take me home.” Gwen had not heard her speak before and her voice was somehow not how Gwen had imagined it; it was grounded – real.

“There’s a time and location,” Ianto added, pointing out a cluster of swirls on his screen.

Gwen swallowed and the painful obstruction in her throat eased a little. “You saved my friend,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Kyana smiled and bowed her head. “You are welcome,” she replied.

*

Ianto leant his forearms on the railings, shoulders hunched against the cold as he stared out across the bay to the illuminated barrage. The lights of the restaurants and the shopping centre, the floodlights of the Senedd and the string of lamps along the bay trail path, all shimmered out across the water as the daylight slowly faded away. The air was full of the sound of sleeping boats shifting gently against their moorings.

He heard a noise behind him; the familiar scrape-and-squeak of the tourist information office door. Footsteps echoed on the wooden boards but Ianto didn’t turn around. Jack came to stand beside him, leaning his back against the rail, elbows resting on top. Ianto watched thin wisps of his own breath puff out over the water and into the strange silence between them.

“You never ask me what I’m thinking,” Jack said eventually.

Ianto’s lips twitched slightly upwards. “Not sure I’d want to know,” he answered honestly.

Jack let out a long sigh through his nostrils. “Probably wise,” he agreed.

“I was thinking I wish I was braver.” Ianto interrupted a second silence that was steadily growing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto saw Jack’s face wrinkle with confusion. “What are you talking about?” Jack asked. “You’re the bravest guy I know.”

Ianto twirled his wrist. “Hunting aliens. Taking risks, facing death, sure,” he agreed. “But I still can’t stand up to a bunch of guys I went to school with.”

Jack straightened a little, turning his body to face Ianto, leaning one elbow on the railing. Ianto glanced at him and saw Jack’s frown. “What the hell happened at that poker game?” Jack asked.

Ianto looked away again, back down at the water; dark and magical by night, not dirty and depressing as it was during the day. “They asked me if I was dating anyone and I said no,” he admitted.

“Ok.” Jack fiddled with the cuff of his coat and gave a small shrug. “Little offended but that’s your prerogative I guess.”

Ianto clasped his fingers together, feeling the cold, dry skin around his knuckles rub uncomfortably. “I said no because they’re a bunch of homophobic pricks and I was scared,” he explained shamefully.

“Oh.”

Ianto’s chin dropped further down onto his chest, his shoulder blades sticking out through his jacket. “So I guess I’m just a spineless prick,” he muttered.

“You think they would’ve beaten you up?” Jack asked curiously.

“No.” Ianto straightened, gripping the railing with his fingers, angry now; at them, at a world that dared to judge him - at himself for caring what they thought. “But I should have said ‘fuck you, you small-minded dickheads’ and walked out.”

Jack tilted his head noncommittedly side to side. “Maybe.”

Ianto turned and blinked at him fiercely. “It’s what you would have done.”

“Nah,” Jack disagreed, with a wave of his head. “I would’ve flirted and made them uncomfortable as hell.” He grinned and Ianto frowned, looking away. “Ianto, it’s ok,” Jack told him, dropping the flippant tone, and touching his shoulder gently. “I get it – I do.” He removed his hand and spread his palms out. “I don’t understand it, ‘cause from where I’m standing, love is love and none of this matters, but I get why you said nothing, and it’s ok.”

“It’s not ok.” Ianto finally turned to face Jack, still grappling with the fury twisting inside him. “It’s like I’m ashamed of you – of us – and I’m not. I’m really not.”

“I know,” Jack assured him with a smile. “I’m sorry I walked out on you.”

Ianto scratched the back of his neck and poked at the boardwalk with the toe of his shoe. “Well, I’m…sorry I snapped at you,” he admitted.

Jack’s smile broadened. “Check us out. Confessions. Apologies. We’re practically functional.”

Ianto laughed, a weight lifted from his shoulders, and looked up at the sky. All was still not right with the world but this thing between him and Jack was back in balance. And so, therefore, was Ianto’s world.

Jack laughed with him, reaching out to cup a hand companionably around the back of his neck, thumb brushing through Ianto’s hair. “Come on, it’s nearly time to go,” he said, pulling Ianto in for a kiss before they headed back inside.

*

The SUV sped along the coast road, spinning away from Cardiff with Ianto and Kyana huddled in the back over the comms equipment. Gwen sat in the front seat staring out into the darkness, watching the headlights as they swept round the bends and over undulations of the empty road. At Ianto’s direction, Jack pulled into a small parking area at the foot of a hill. They stepped out onto the gravel and Jack looked up at the grey lump of hill climbing away from them into the night sky.

Ianto checked his watch and then the GPS before orientating himself. “This way!” he declared and set off up a narrow path; a dark thread winding its way through the damp grass.

Jack, Gwen and Kyana followed close behind, in single file, strung out along the path in silence, keeping up with Ianto’s pace as the path grew steeper towards the summit. A startled sheep loomed out of the darkness and then careered off into the bushes with an indignant bleat.

They emerged over the crest of the hill to find the summit a wide, flat plateau. Clouds scudded across the sky, causing the moonlight to play strange patterns over the grassy tussocks and straggly gorse. At the highest point, a triangulation point jutted up into the sky like a solitary sentinel.

Ianto checked his watch again. “Almost time.”

The four of them stood and waited, Ianto’s eyes fixed on his watch.

A few moments later, a sudden bright light from above spotlighted the triangulation point. Jack shielded his eyes from the glare as he peered up at the bulky outline of the craft beyond it, hovering over the hill.

Kyana stepped towards the light and then turned back to them. “Thank you,” she told them. “You have been very kind.”

Ianto pocketed the GPS and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome,” he told her.

She nodded back to him. “I will send a gift.”

Transfixed, they watched as she walked slowly towards the light, arms out and palms open in welcome. When the beam grew wider, she tilted her face upward to meet it, her skin and robes shimmering with a new intensity. The shaft of light soon transformed into a shower of dancing particles that swirled and twisted around her, cocooning her in their brilliance. And then, in a flash, she was gone.

The air around them began to shudder and, with a muffled roar, the craft lumberingly manoeuvred its nose around to point back up into the atmosphere. As the engines cranked up to full power, a powerful jet of warm air forced Jack’s hair so far back that his scalp began to ache. The noise of the ship’s engines grew to a deafening cacophony until it accelerated away to a flash of blue, then green, and then nothing.

Jack, Gwen and Ianto stood in the silence left behind, staring up at the place where the ship had been. Suddenly, the air fizzed and a silver cylinder appeared, suspended in mid-air over the triangulation point.

“Cool!” Ianto bounded excitedly towards it.

“Be careful,” Jack warned, hand going straight to the gun at his hip.

“She said it was a gift,” Ianto yelled over his shoulder. Placing both hands on the granite top, he sprung up onto the triangulation point.

“Ianto!” Jack shouted. “It could be a trap!” He stepped forward cautiously, gun trained on the cylinder.

Stretching up on his tiptoes, Ianto brushed the capsule with his fingertips.

“Get down Ianto!” Jack and Gwen shouted in unison.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the cylinder began to open. Bright lights in a rainbow of colours flooded out, looping up and around Ianto, shooting off into the darkness and bursting into showers of sparkles at sporadic intervals.

Ianto grinned like a little kid, the display lighting up his face in technicolour. “See Jack,” he called, flinging out his arms and tipping back his head. “Not everything’s shit!”

Jack heard Gwen laugh beside him and found her gazing up at Ianto and the lights swirling around him, completely captivated. Jack shoved his gun back into his holster and let out an involuntary whoop as he grabbed Gwen into an embrace.

After a few minutes, the display faded away and left the hill silent and dark again. The cylinder dropped to the ground with a small thud. Ianto jumped down from the triangulation point and crouched beside it, touching it thoughtfully.

Gwen pulled away from Jack, wide-eyed realisation on her face. “I’ve got to go,” she announced and took off back down the hillside. Jack and Ianto exchanged shrugs and set off after her.

*

When Gwen burst into the flat, Rhys was sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop, hunched over the keyboard and staring at the screen, face scrunched up with frustration. His eyes flickered towards the door with surprise when he heard Gwen crashing across the living room.

She paused at the entrance to the kitchen, tossing her jacket over her shoulder in the direction of the sofa. “Need any help with that?” she panted.

Rhys slowly broke into a smile. “That’d be magic love.”

She smiled back and pulled up a chair beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I fell down a Star Wars rabbit hole for a while there but now I'm back! I think I've read, watched and listened to to most Torchwood content and I don't think Gwen has been given much of a backstory?! So hopefully this won't clash with anything that's already been established for her character...


End file.
